second line
by fiesa
Summary: It is more her own resolve than their promise, actually, but when it comes down to it they love her. OneShot- Tsunade, Jiraiya, Orochimaru. Another life. (Established Orochimaru/Jiraiya)


**second line**

_Summary: It is more her own resolve than their promise, actually, but when it comes down to it they love her. OneShot- Tsunade, Jiraiya, Orochimaru. Another life. _

_Warning: Established Orochimaru/Jiraiya. Fall-darkness. AU._

_Set: Story-unrelated_

_Disclaimer: Standards apply._

_A/N: A pairing I usually don't write. Also, regarding the fact that summer lasted like two weeks in Germany I probably shouldn't post something as fall-depressing as this. But it is raining and the fog that hangs around all fall and winter appeared last week and I love the rain, so yeah... :) _

* * *

Grey in grey.

Grey sky, grey clouds, grey trees, grey streets – even the people seemed grey to Tsunade. It was as if fall was sucking all color out of Hidden Leaf. Somehow summer had passed and surrendered to the cool, wet autumn days that were so typical for almost-but-not-quite continental climate. Not exactly unpleasant but mildly depressing. At least the trees were dying in glory, majestically red and golden. A gust of wind chased fallen leaves past her window: nature, by nature, was aesthetic. Lonely, too.

"Nade-Hime," Jiraiya addressed her. "A penny for your thoughts?"

Shaking her head clear of the cobwebs of thought, the woman turned back to her two closest friends and smiled. "A penny? That seems cheap."

Jiraiya chuckled, Orochimaru smirked. At least it was the ghost of a smirk, anyway.

"Prove to us that it is worth it."

"Nothing of importance," Tsunade dismissed them with a wave of her hand. "Where were we?"

Both graced her with almost identical frowns and disbelieving glances, but neither one pressured her for an answer. She was thankful they let it go. After giving all her life until this day to Hidden Leaf, she had the right to at least keeping her innermost thoughts to herself. She loved her home town, her best friends and the people. After Dan she had thought she never would be able to love again. But human beings were stronger than they appeared. Hearts, too. Smiling to herself, Tsunade busied herself with the papers in front of her and jumped back into the discussion Orochimaru and Jiraiya were having regarding the staff of the village's Academy. Why Sarutobi had decided that not his favorite Orochimaru but Tsunade was to take over his title of Fire Shadow one day she still had no idea. It felt like she had been the second choice out of them, picked because Orochimaru had refused to take up the responsibility. But sometimes she thought that maybe - _maybe - _being the designated Hokage had saved her. There was no time for self-doubt, not even for loneliness. Being the Hokage's chosen successor was a full-time responsibility. Tsunade hadn't wanted it but was slowly growing into it. Had Sarutobi known this would happen? Probably not. He might have guessed it, though. _  
_

It was dark outside when they finally finished. Jiraiya yawned and stretched like a cat, Orochimaru calmly collected a few fallen scrolls and stacked the long-empty tea cups. Tsunade sighed deeply, satisfied at their works' success.

"I need a spar," Jiraiya announced and jumped to his feet, as usual all-too-eager, his sleepiness blown away by new determination. "Come on, guys. We've been sitting here for hours, pushing paper. We're going to get old prematurely if we don't do something."

"Who are you calling old?" Tsunade demanded, casting a meaningful glance at his white mane. Of course, since it had always been white it didn't matter much whether Jiraiya was fifteen or twenty-five, either way.

"Sparring?" Orochimaru asked simultaneously, glancing out of the window. The rain had ended as abruptly as it had begun. Now, darkness hung over the village like a thick blanket. "It's dark already."

"Since when has that ever stopped anyone?" Jiraiya was by the window in three strides and threw it open. Cold, fresh air rushed inside, making Tsunade realize how stale and used the air inside the office had been before. "Come on, lazy-asses. We can use the indoor facilities."

"It surely never stopped you, blockhead," Orochimaru shot back. "I'm leaving tomorrow, early."

"And you've already packed your gear and you won't be going to bed until midnight anyway. No more excuses left. Come on, get off your lazy ass and let's have some fun!"

"You happen to have a mission tomorrow as well. I am sure you haven't prepared yet. You don't have time for this."

"Aww, come on!" Jiraiya waved off his friend, team-mate and lover and turned to Tsunade. "Nade-Hime, what do you say? A quick spar and a dinner before me and stupid over there are gone for half a month? Just the three of us, like the old times? You will miss us when we're gone, you know you will."

Torn, Tsunade glanced at Orochimaru. The dark-haired man was calm as usual, his face almost unreadable except for those who knew him best. Since they had been thrown into a team as genin, the three of them had been together: she knew every expression, every line in both Orochimaru's and Jiraiya's faces, knew their quirks and character flaws, weaknesses and strengths. And yet sometimes she thought they didn't know her at all. So perhaps she did not know them sometimes, either?

"I'll pass," she finally said with an apologetic smile. "I've got things to do."

"Excuses, excuses!" Jiraiya rounded the table and leaned over her, his arms on the sides of her chair, his face hovering over hers so close she could see the golden flecks in his eyes. "Tsunade, come on, we'll be out of town for quite some time. Don't dump us now!"

Jiraiya was so close. Her eyes flickered to the side: Orochimaru was looking at her as well, as if he was able to see her heart-beat pick up speed. They thought they knew her, but she knew them better. Oh, so transparent, her two best friends: despite the fact that the dark-haired shinobi hadn't given any indication that he agreed to Jiraiya's plan, he was ready to follow through with it. They'd go for a spar, somewhere, have dinner, talk, laugh, and tomorrow they would be off. It was what shinobi did: leave for missions, return and leave again, and she wasn't sure why she had suddenly started to resent it so much. It was a life she had known since she had been born. Being the grand-daughter of Leaf's First Fire Shadow had left her no other paths open than following the one of the Will of the Fire, and while she had regretted it in the past she had learned to steel herself against the pain. (_Dan's decisions had been Dan's decisions, after all._) So now she was one of the three students and chosen successor of the Third, Head of Konoha medical center, one of the Sannin. A woman of twenty-something, experienced beyond her age and yet still young. And still she wanted to throw her arms around her best friends and prevent them from leaving, plead like a little kid for them not to leave her like everyone else had done. She was fine with staying in the village and doing her work here, she had always been fine with Jiraiya and Orochimaru leaving Hidden Leaf for periods of time to do their duty while hers laid in the village. She was fine with them being in a relationship, something that set her aside in a way nobody who hadn't experienced the same would ever understand. So why was she still so afraid to let them go?

"Sorry," she said and smiled although she did not feel like it. "You two go. I'll see you tomorrow before you leave, the usual place."

"Can't help it then," Jiraiya declared and grabbed Orochimaru's arm and the gesture, though his grip was rough, seemed to contain an incredible amount of tenderness. It was in Orochimaru's eyes, as well, as the man followed his light-haired lover to the door. "Good night, Nade-Hime. Don't work too long, will you?"

Orochimaru followed Jiraiya without words, but he cast a last glance at Tsunade and in his face she read a frown. Orochimaru knew something was going on, something she wasn't telling them – but he, as was his way, would let her figure it out by herself and wait until she came to them voluntarily. Tsunade smiled and hoped it didn't look too forced, and listened to their footsteps retreat down the stairs.

Once alone, she started to clear away the traces of work strewn all over her office. The tea cups went into the sink, the scrolls onto the shelf, the papers Jiraiya had scribbled on she stacked and left on the table in case he would need them some other time. Orochimaru never took notes, maybe because he knew she took them for all of them. Deciding she would check in in the hospital before she went home to work on even more paperwork for Sarutobi, she stepped to the shelf on the other side of the room and looked for her bag. The picture frame was a such integral part of her office that she barely noticed it anymore, but today it caught her eye. Several photographs were frozen behind the glass, somewhat haphazardly. The biggest showed the three of them as children: Tsunade, Orochimaru and Jiraiya, Sarutobi in the background, his pipe hanging from the side of his lips. The contradictions they had been, and still where: the blonde girl and her two team-mates, one white, one black. There was a small picture of her grandparents, unsmiling, an unusual sight for the First and a usual for his wife. Tsunade remembered Uzumaki Mito: behind the façade of polite detachment she had constantly worn she had been a very lively person, though in a different way from the man she had married. There was another image: Orochimaru, in his teens, gloomy and dark, Jiraiya, the same age: grinning and awkward. Thinking back, it scared her: she could have lost both of them at that point. It was still terrifying, thinking of how Orochimaru had slipped away further and further, and what would have happened had not Jiraiya noticed it and confronted him about it. And had Orochimaru not opened up to him – and later to Tsunade, too – they might have lost him. But they hadn't. That, too, might have been the beginning of what later had turned out to be mutual feelings her two friends had for each other. Oh, the scandal they had caused, the disgusted glances and whispered, hateful words. Tsunade hadn't cared for them except for the fact that they might hurt the two people that were most important to her: she didn't want either of them in pain, and she wanted both of them happy. And if by being together they were happy, that was fine with her. Sometimes, awkwardness had spelled in the way she had run in on them a few times, or in the way they sometimes looked at each other. But since, on their missions, they usually rented two rooms and everybody just naturally assumed one was for her and the other one for the two others due to their gender, there hadn't been too many suspicious and disgusted glances. And, last, her eyes caught the last small picture: a portrait of herself, laughing, against the backdrop of the stunning scenery of what was Hidden Leaf during summer. Fields and soft hills, in every shade of green, and her blond hair and wide smile. It was a pretty picture, one of the few she actually liked of herself. Jiraiya had taken it and insisted of her keeping it in her office together with the other ones, and she had complied because she liked the composition.

Jiraiya was a good photographer.

Looking at her own self, Tsunade felt a stab of pain. Did she always look like this when she smiled? Or was it that only Jiraiya brought out what in other women would have been beauty but in Tsunade only was a certain prettiness? She had never considered herself as beautiful, yet this picture made her think she was. And it was all Jiraiya's fault. Tsunade wasn't sure when she had started falling in love with her white-haired best friend, or, at that point, if it even was love. She just knew she felt a smile spreading on her face every time she saw him. Jiraiya made her laugh, and made her inexplicably angry on other days. She would fling insults at him, argue, disagree, and at the same time she felt sorry but she couldn't help herself. He would walk through the door after a long-time mission and she would feel something lift off her shoulders she hadn't realized was there but then recognized as worry, similar to what she felt for Orochimary but... different. Jiraiya could make her laugh like no one else could. He could catch her eye like no one else could - in a room, she would spot his tall figure immediately. Even his back was familiar to her, the way he sat slouched like he didn't care for the world and her troubles and still was wide awake and alert for anything that might possibly happen. The fierceness of his loyalty and strength was a fire at the base of her spine, strengthening her when she thought she was unable to go on. His unshakable faith in the goodness of people - in her ability to once be able to lead the village, in his and Orochimaru's strength that would always make them return to her, in the bond they shared that would always exist - was close to ridiculous on some days and yet something that drove her forwards day by day. Tsunade was a woman of twenty-five, with a selected heritage, educated and with accomplishments few other shinobi her age had to account for. She was moderately intelligent and more than a little stubborn. She was pretty, too, in a certain way Dan had once called _intriguing_, and she had never been short of suitors. Despite a few relationships, though, she had the feeling she had never been able to really fall in love. Dan... Dan had been special, and they had been so young. Perhaps it had been because she had already given away her heart to him, once upon a time. Perhaps she just was abnormal. Not that it mattered. Jiraiya would never love her back and she would never tell him, anyway, because what she felt was so jumbled and mixed-up and crazy, and because she wasn't even sure what she felt was love. What was love, anyway. Maybe Tsunade was realistic, or perhaps even cynic, but she wasn't so sure anymore something like eternal love and devotion existed. It certainly hadn't struck her, until now. Maybe her feelings for Dan could have grown into something like the stories told of. She had liked him, had enjoyed going out with him, of course had enjoyed the more private aspects of a relationship. But he had left. At that time she had thought she had loved him, loved him like she wouldn't be able to love anyone else in her life. But Dan had left. How could you live with someone, _know_ someone and love someone and then suddenly not live with him anymore and not know him anymore, without losing a part of yourself? And, if that was the case, had she lost the part of her that had been able to love? Or had it been that she had been unable to love Dan because she had always loved Jiraiya and hadn't realized it?

There was nobody she could talk to, not her friends, not her colleagues, and certainly not Orochimaru and Jiraiya. She would have loved to talk to her grandmother. But Uzumaki Mito had died, taking the kyuubi with her. This was her life, Senju Tsunade's life. Nobody could make her decisions for her, decide for her what was right or wrong, what to do and what not to do. Nobody could stand up and take her burdens, not those that were an integral part of her.

Everyone had to live for himself.

Angry with herself Tsunade put down the picture frame and went to the window to close it, resting her forehead against the cool glass. She could still see their faces. Jiraiya, so full of life, the not-so-secret smirk on his face familiar like her own. _I love you._ The words tasted foreign on her tongue, like something that was a part of her but didn't want to be spelled out. She could picture his surprise, his apologies; even Orochimaru's silent sorrow. She wouldn't tell them. There was no need to burden them.

Tsunade strongly disliked the term _hate_. Her grandfather had taught her that even enemies did not deserve the term in its absoluteness. _Remember, Princess,_ Hashirama had told her. _Hate is all-consuming. In the end, it will consume the one who hates as well as his enemies. _It had taught her to relativize everything in life: life and death, happiness and grief, even love. With the determination she had inherited from the Senju family Tsunade had trained herself to be calm, and to not explode too easily. From the headstrong, easily-exploding girl she had been she had trained herself to learn, and later to work, she had trained herself to keep a leash on her emotions and to see all the sides of a problem, and she was proud of her achievements. Some nights she woke up in cold sweat, gasping: there always were the possibilities, the ways her life could have gone. Orochimaru could have left, leaving her to drown in alcohol and Jiraiya to break apart. The war could have started again. Her brother could have died from his injuries, leaving her broken and in doubt of her own abilities, and they would never have made it until here. But everything had turned out the way it was now. She should be glad.

Tsunade wrapped her arms around herself and held herself tightly. As if she feared she would fall apart if she let go.

This was the life she had chosen. A life in the second line: while Orochimaru and Jiraiya went out to fight, she would forever remain behind. Deciding who to send and where, and, ultimately, who would die. Tending to the wounded when they were brought to her, helping civilians with their daily needs and troubles. Perhaps it wasn't a job as heroic as fighting for Hidden Leaf, surely not as important as running diplomatic missions across the continents. But it was a job just as important as any one of those. Sometimes she wondered: had she chosen to stay behind because she did not want to see Jiraiya and Orochimaru together?

Some questions better stayed unanswered.

But it hurt. Tsunade had no interest in other men. She rather preferred to be alone, but the prospect was so lonely she felt like crying. No real solution, then. And some day they would leave her behind, anyway: one day they would die, far away and without her even able to try saving them. It was a terrifying thought, but even this one paled at the prospect that Jiraiya and Orochimaru, the two people she loved most in the world, would die because of her. At that point everyone would have left her behind – like her grandparents had done, like her parents had, like her teacher would do, some day. Dan had left her. _Everyone_ left. Jiraiya and Orochimaru would be no exception. In a way, it had already happened: Jiraiya-Tsunade-Orochimaru had become Jiraiya-and-Orochimaru and Tsunade was left to watch. She was happy for them and still: she was only human. Being left out hurt. Her grandmother, she knew, would have told her to change the situation if she wasn't happy with it, but that seemed easier said than done. Perhaps she should try to go out, to get to know some guys. The mere thought, though, made her flinch. It was pathetic, really: how she did not want to be alone, but she also did not want anyone to be close to her.

She wanted-

The door opened behind her, letting in another gust of wind and creating a draft and suddenly she became aware of how cold it had become in the room.

"Shit!" Jiraiya exclaimed. "It's freezing in here! What the hell have you been doing, Nade-Hime?"

It was as if her brain had conjured him up: Jiraiya. Fair-haired, grey-eyed, in his training gear, his face flushed from exertion, his eyes alight. Her eyes swallowed him up – she couldn't help the stupid smile that tugged the corners of her lips upward. Behind him Orochimaru pushed through the door, took in the scene and followed Jiraiya into the room to close the window wordlessly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same," Jiraiya complained and took a swig from his water bottle. "We were sparring but some stupid Yoga class took over our training hall and we had to stop. We're going for dinner, now, Nade, you're coming, too."

Earlier that evening she had had no intention of accompanying them for dinner. But the confidence in Jiraiya's words – the honesty that shone from his eyes – was too much for her. Again and again she fell for it. It should be impossible by now: it wasn't.

"Orochimaru?"

She turned to look at her other friend. _You don't mind? _She tried to communicate wordlessly and was answered with a frown that was so expressive it almost screamed _Of course you'll come, stupid, we're a team after all. _It stroke her as a miracle, then: the fact that her best friends still thought of her, even if they would never know what she was thinking. Or feeling, for that matter. Maybe they left and lived their own lives and had their own worries and fears. But they always returned for her and took some time to spend it with her. In their own way both Orochimaru and Jiraiya had promised her a long time ago that they would always be by her side and they had yet to break a promise made to her.

"If it is fine with both of you, let's go," she told them, walking over to her desk to collect her jacket and slip it on. "Where are we going?"

"Your turn to decide," Orochimaru said. Jiraiya pouted.

"Wasn't it my turn?"

"No."

"But I wanted to go to this super-new restaurant that…"

The harshness in Orochimaru's voice was counteracted by the softness in the glance the men exchanged, even when Jiraiya continued whining.

Tsunade smiled. This time, it was a heart-felt smile. "I don't care where we go. Surprise me."

Tomorrow they would be gone again, and Tsunade would go back to her lonely task of looking after a village. All her own issues aside, it did not feel like a burden too heavy to be carried. She was strong. She had come until there, and she would go on. She had a village to look after and shinobi to keep in line, a task to occupy even the cleverest mind continuously and for as long as she wanted to carry the responsibility. And she had her two best friends.

In their own way, both of them did love her.


End file.
